


Blackgeneral week writings

by KS_Claw



Category: Guardians of Childhood - William Joyce, Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: A different take on a movie/book verse crossover, Angst, Blackgeneral week, Drabbles with art, Gen, Zombie-ish AU, sad headcanons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-27
Updated: 2014-07-27
Packaged: 2018-02-10 16:03:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2031246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KS_Claw/pseuds/KS_Claw
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Art, as well as minor ficlets, written for Blackgeneral week on tumblr, featuring such things as sad headcanons and other things. Hope you guys enjoy!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sleep Deprivation

**Author's Note:**

> Texts in italics are a combination of dreams and flashbacks.

He has always been a light sleeper, really. In his early youth, it had just been something he’d gotten used to (you had to get up early, when you were a farm boy). In the military, it had become a necessity ( _“up and at ‘em soldier, you can sleep when you’re dead!”_ ), and then when he had first become a father, it had been more of an instinct than anything (his wife would almost always insist that he lay back down to get some sleep, whenever their baby daughter started crying. But she usually caved in, especially because she had been so tired after the birth herself.)  
  
These days however, sleep feels like something that is trying to punish him. Something that is there to remind him, that he is only human, only a man.  
  
 _He can still smell the acrid smoke, still see the fire as it attempted to consume the bricks of the mansion. The fire had been started by a torch lighting up a curtain, and had spread from there, but it had only caused bits of damage to the living rooms. But still, the smoke stuck to everything else like tar for several days on some things and forever on other objects…_  
  
He hates it. Hates how sleep feels like a weakness, how it leaves him feeling vulnerable.   
  
And now that he is guarding the Shadow Prison, it is the last thing that he needs. To show weakness.  
  
But sometimes, just sometimes, his body forces him to find a place in his quarters, where he can lay down and close his eyes for just a few minutes…  
  
 _He finds her body, broken and still, and he clutches her tightly as he wails out his grief-_  
  
Even if those few moments have him writhing from the nightmares he is tormented by.  
  
 _Her little boat is gone, she has to be safe, she has to be!_  
  
He blames the Fearlings. With so many gathered in one place, their influence is powerful, even while locked in the prison the way they are.  
  
 _His most loyal men do their best to search, but there are only so many resources you can use, and so much time you can be allowed. The Tsar doesn’t listen, refuses to understand, or at least he seems to in the General’s grieving state._  
  
It is a curse and a blessing. A curse, because it leaves him with unpleasant dreams. And a blessing, because it keeps him awake.   
  
_In some of his dreams, he is sailing through the stars, searching for his baby girl. He thinks he can see her little boat, just in sight and yet so far out of reach. He calls to her, tells her that Daddy is here, Daddy is coming princess, I’m coming to save you-_  
  
Whatever little rest he gets, he uses as much to its advantage as he can. He gets up, gets cleaned up (only pure habit and routine makes him able to keep up appearance, or he would look like a downright mess), and then forces down whatever little food he can stomach, before he goes to serve his guard duty.  
  
Sometimes, he thinks, it is only this final duty that keeps him awake. That keeps him from doing anything stupid. He has already failed the ones he held the most dear to his heart. He cannot fail a second time.  
  
 _"We’ll find her, Koz." His most loyal lieutenant assures him, as they are about to set sail. They’re risking a great deal by hiding their mission from the Tsar like this, but these men know better than anything how much the General has suffered._  
  
Kozmotis jerks awake, his eyes wide and his chest heaving as he gasps and he looks around wildly until he realizes that he has fallen asleep on his own post. He snarls, even as the Fearlings laugh and shriek in their own prison. With a furious snort, the Golden General stumbles off towards his barracks.   
  
_By going out as a civilian ship the way they had, they had to be very careful with communication. But it has still been so long, and there has been no news…_  
  
He digs through his supplies, until he finds what he is looking for, in the form of all sorts of caffeinated drinks and a few specific potions. He remembers a fellow soldier coming up with potions that can keep you awake, which worked well if you were on night watch duty, that in that day could be a boring and tedious affair, depending on where you were posted. Just a mouthful should be enough to keep him up for the time he needs to stay awake.   
  
He has enough supplies to make him at least 5 bottles the size of his own fist. He measures carefully, and drinks the mixture. It is sharp and bitter on his tongue, and it gives his body just the jolt it needs, the caffeinated drink buzzing through his veins, and fooling parts of his brain into believing that he has gotten all the rest he needs.  
  
 _Sometimes in his dreams, he almost reaches her, is almost so close to the boat that he can reach out and touch it, and he calls to her, tells his baby girl that everything will be alright, he’s here to save her. And she looks up at him with teary eyes and a hopeful smile, reaching out to take his outstretched hands…_

And then it is back to work, back to standing at the gates and patiently patrolling, making certain that no one shadow escapes, that no one else will suffer anymore nightmares…  
  
 _And then black chains and ropes seem to lash out, whipping around him and his own vessel, black hooks sinking into his flesh and making him roar in pain, as they yank him back painfully, his daughter’s screams ringing in his ears as he is yanked back towards a massive black galleon, where Dream Pirates and Nightmare Men all hiss and cackle, their own leader(who seems so oddly familiar but can’t be-impossible-never)  standing tall and grim as he readies a massive harpoon… and Kozmotis realizes to his horror that it is not meant for him, but before he can call out, can beg, threaten, **ANYTHING** , the black spectre raies the harpoon and throws it with all the strength and force of a canon and there is a **SCREAM-**_  
  
(When the Fearlings trick him into opening the door, a very small part of him feels relieved, and wonders if he will be allowed now to sleep without dreaming.)


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the day five Prompt, "Punishment."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I sometimes do drawings for prompts like this, and then I end up doing accidental ficlets on the side. This one is also based on a sad [headcanon](http://ksclaw.tumblr.com/post/88313278562/so-heres-a-sad-book-four-thought-before-bed) I came up with a while back. I recommend that you read that, before you read this particular chapter.

                                             

Tsar Lunanoff sighed, his stiff posture slipping as he did so. “General… Kozmotis.” _He is still your friend, even if he has been acting irrationally._ He sternly reminded himself. “You have to understand, that this is not a punishment. But it has been a long time… too long, since that night.” He turned to face him, a concerned frown on his face.

"I am not telling you this as your Tsar, but as your friend… you have an obligation, a duty to the Constellations… and they will not feel at ease, unless you are the man who is at this post. Just… think about it.” He swallowed hard before speaking his next words, so they wouldn’t waver.

"No one else wants to lose their loved ones, the way that you have."

The Golden General had been silent all this time. In the light of the evening suns filtering through the window, his shadow had seemed to stretch itself ominously, almost like it was alive. The man had been keeping his gaze on the floor during their entire conversation, as if he hadn’t been paying attention… But then he raised his head ever so slightly, gazing up at Lunanoff, with a sharp gleam in his eyes.

As it was, Kozmotis Pitchiner drew in a slow, deep breath, before he spoke in a sharp, but controlled tone of voice:

"As my Tsar commands."

Had Tsar Lunanoff been any other man, he had no doubt that he might have gotten punched in the jaw for his words. As it was, he could only watch as the Golden General gave a short bow, turned on his heel and marched out of his Tsar’s office, his shadow seeming to dance along the wall as he passed the windows, until the door shut behind him with a loud slam.

Tsar Lunanoff released a breath he didn’t know he had been holding, but it was not one of relief. He had the feeling that the next time they met, it would not be in good circumstances.


	3. Spoils of war

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the Day 6 prompt: Spoils of war.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah, I have no idea what happened frogsfortea's excellent fancomic, but... it somehow turned into this. It's at least a possible idea to play with later? Or at least one way of doing a movie/book crossover. I had fun drawing this though, along with the coloring, and am really pleased with how the Nightmare Men turned out.

                                                              

The first thing Pitch noticed, was how different the leader of his captives were. Unlike the shadowy figures, he was solid, clad in what looked like a uniform of some kind, a high collar raised like a crest, and seeming to move like it had a life of its own, flickering like the flames of a fire.

There were other things as well… Pitch could sense a strange fear from the other, but it wasn’t until he turned around that the Boogeyman could confirm something strange was going on.

Had it not been for the others more muscular build, not to mention the obvious gleam of madness in his eyes, they could have been a reflection of one another.

"Who the _hell_ do you think you are!? Release me at once!" Pitch demanded.

The other simply grinned.

"Once upon a time, I was a man known as Kozmotis Pitchiner." He said. He then chuckled, the sound being echoed eeriely by the shadowy creatures around them.

"Now however… I am Pitch Black, the Nightmare King." He narrowed his eyes, his smile, if possible, turning sharper. It made a rare chill of apprehension move up Pitch’s spine, and he hissed when the other grabbed the front of his robes, forcing him up on his feet. For a moment, his double touched the golden collar that had been gifted to him by Sandman, and he narrowed his eyes with a thoughtful look…

Then he grabbed it and yanked it off, the collar immediately becoming golden dream sand, that the shadowy creatures dodged away from with alarmed hisses.

"The Spell of Enslavement should do nicely for you." The Nightmare King told his double calmly. "Wouldn’t want you getting in my way… and in this world, I doubt there will be a Goose Girl willing to help you."

Before Pitch had a chance to answer, (what the hell did he mean by ‘Goose girl?’), his double spoke in an unknown language; and Pitch felt as if he had been frozen, his body becoming paralyzed as it… began to shrink? Until he was nothing more than a porcelain doll in the others grip.

Pitch Black, the Nightmare King, tossed the doll towards one of his Nightmare Men who caught it easily.

"Take this and bury it somewhere in the deepest, darkest part of Earth, where no light will ever find it. As for the rest of you-" He paused, before he knelt down to where the remains of the golden collar lay, in a small pile of sand. He reached out with his right hand, the one that under his gloves had the locket imprinted in his flesh, and touched the golden sand. It whirled up at his touch, and he narrowed his eyes in thought.

"How interesting… different worlds, different sands…" He murmured. "I will have to experiment with this… As soon as I find a way to gather more."


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Final chapter and final prompt, for Day 7: Corruption.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This part is Doublemint Oreo-ish. I ended up turning it into a sort of "zombie/super virus apocalypse" kind of thing. If anyone wants to play with it, then you have my full permission o3o

                                                      

_"I’m glad you stopped fighting, Kozzy. It’s not so bad, once you get used to it."_

Kozmotis tried to draw in a deep breath to respond, to make an attempt at responding… but he could only manage a weak groan. He felt so tired. At least his wound had stopped hurting, and all he could feel of the corruption, was a faint tingle in his skin.

It would all be over soon, if the hallucination of Pitch was to be believed.

"How did you get in here?" He decided to ask. The doors were all bolted shut. None of the infected should be able to get in.

The apparition gave a knife-sharp smile.

_"Go to sleep, brother._ __I will show you when you wake up.”_ _

 


End file.
